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Chapter Three

When I came to, I was greeted by the scent of cigarettes and men's cologne as it wafted through the foyer of my house. I was laying on the bench facing the door as an awkward thought came to me. Jason Dean?

Then suddenly a voice broke out, echoing the foyer. "Hey, Billie." The voice was a bit low and grindly, but held the same sarcasm that I craved. It made me feel uneasy as I knew immediately who the voice belonged to.

I jumped up, fear engulfing me unceasingly. Jason Dean intimidated me so, to the point that I feared for my own life. God, I had gotten so wrapped up with him already, defending his criminal act of pulling out a gun, and against Madean! She was so incredibly right that it'd killed me then. Only I couldn't think all that straight as I watched him approaching the bench slowly, his hands held behind his back mysteriously.

"Woah," he said almost mockingly. He must know what I'm thinking. He must! He must know I'm terrified, or he wouldn't have said it like that.

"Jason, I swear to God..."

"What?" He shrugged, suddenly interested in what I have to say.

I froze for a second before I noticed he wasn't wearing his coat I had seen on him earlier that day. I looked up at his face and stared in his icy, grey eyes. I couldn't stop. His eyes were so compelling it made me sick. I was so frightened, I felt like a deer staring into the headlights of a truck in the middle of the night.

"What are you doing here?" I managed to ask. It sounded better in my head, that's only because my voice came out a squeak barely above a whisper.

"Oh, me?" he said, looking down at me as he sat beside me. His eyes never left me as he spoke. "I came over to talk to you and when you went nighty night your mom invited me to have dinner." He then smiled and let out a small chuckle through his grinning teeth.

I had so many questions running through my mind. My mom didn't even know him, and neither did Van. So, in a nutshell, they didn't know he had a gun and was the guy that shot at Kurt and Ram to make them shit themselves. Cool.

"Wait... One, why would she do that? Two, why were you coming to talk to me? And three... How the hell did you get my address?"

He just laughed at this. He threw his arm around me, which comforted me so much that it made me uncomfortable. "Well, to answer your first question, well, I don't have a clue - oh wait, except, maybe it was because I told her I was here to talk to you about a school project. Which brings me to the answer of your second question. I wanted to talk to you about our little secret, you know, the one about the gun. Yeah," he said with a hint of sarcasm. He let his arm down to his side before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He offered me one and I declined. "Suit yourself," he said as he lit one up. He took a drag and said, "And about knowing where you live," he replied with the smoke clenched between his teeth, "it's better if I don't answer that."

My eyes widened imaginatively. I thought of only the worst things he could've done to know where I lived. Did he stalk me or somebody in my family? Kidnap Clarissa? Hell, the words he responded with shook me to no end.

"And, yes," he added, "if your mom does ask, I'm here for a project." He reached into his pocket and slightly pulled out a shiny object just an inch into my vision.

"Oh, she's awake!"

He hurriedly stuffed it back into his pocket. "Ah, yes, Mrs. Shelton. I was just about to walk into the dining room and tell you."

"Jason, I can't thank you enough for checking up on her," my mother replied softly.

He smirked in the most sinister way just then. I really didn't understand what my mother couldn't see about him that I could; pure evil. He sighed softly and said, "Of course, Mrs. Shelton. It was my pleasure."